The next morning I opened my eyes. That simple act would be the easiest part of waking up. My body was not responding as it normally would. I needed to pee, but I couldn’t get my legs to move and when I finally did I wished I hadn’t. Every muscle I had and some I would swear never existed was screaming for mercy.
“Shanna,” a female voice said, as someone knocked on the front door.
I muffled my moans, quickly got out of bed, closed the bedroom door, and stayed quiet.
“Shaaaannnnnnaaaa are you there?” It was Mrs. Davidson. I had no doubt she was stopping by for that glass of tea and a chat but today was not a good day for niceties. I remained silent, and she finally gave up and left. I walked stiff legged to the living room and fell onto the couch thankful the clicker was on the floor within reach—as long as I was lying down. I turned on CNN to catch up on some news. Cable TV is a luxury the town of Sunny had recently acquired. For a town to have cable it must house eight hundred or more residents. Sunny now boasted eight hundred and eighty. Two-thirds of them had the cable company’s hand in their pockets on a monthly basis. As much as they might complain most of the customers would pay the cable bill and let the mortgage be late when times got tight. What’s a house without cable?
I decided eating was more important than comfort so I used Pop’s philosophy. “Hair of the dog that bit ‘cha,” I said and got up fast. I walked quickly to the kitchen grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen and a bowl, the cereal, milk from the fridge and made it to the table without dropping anything or screaming from the pain. Pop wasn’t a drinking man, but he did believe everything came out of you the same way it got in.
I took three of the ibuprofen gel caps and ate the first bowl of cereal without chewing or tasting a bite then poured a second. I was feeling better my body was aching, but my mind was steadfast on the momentum. Next, I thought, I would go visit Maria and then back to work on the farm. First, I had to figure out what to do with the sessions. I got up again and this time it was easier. I made a pot of coffee and thought about the many spiral notebooks I’d filled since arriving and began to gather them from my bag and the sock drawer.
I sat on the couch, sipped coffee and stared at the bound books of senseless gibberish beside me. I had no curiosity about them or desire to read what was written on the pages, but I did have to do something with them. I could burn them, shred them or blow them to smithereens. I was in favor of the latter. I finally decided they should be burnt. I would have to use gas or some other kind of fuel to assure they burned completely. I was flipping channels on the TV feeling adult about having made a decision when I saw Ceely Masters’ face on the screen. CNN was reporting on her interview with Doctor Marla Todd. I turned up the volume.
The show was ‘Your World Today’, and consisted of five highly aesthetic hosts sitting in a semi-circle with the video of Ceely behind them. It was the big reveal of the similarities between the Patient: Crew books and Wayne Perkins killing his wife. They showed Marla’s close-up, she looked so frightened. I leaned forward to see her eyes were filled with fear and confusion. Her lip twitched, her eyes blinked erratically; she had lost control. Marla never lost control. Ceely had asked her a question but I didn’t hear it. Marla must not have either because she didn’t answer. When Ceely pushed for an answer, Marla removed the microphone from her jacket lapel and gracefully excused herself. The video stopped.
“Interesting,” the blonde female host wearing the low cut shirt said.
Tim had instructed me to watch the news and read any and everything I could find concerning the books and what people were saying. He said knowledge was my most powerful weapon. I couldn’t stomach this glib tabloid escapade a second longer and decided I’d grab a newspaper while I was in town. Maybe I’d pick up the Dallas Morning News or the New York Times and read them later after work.
Without another thought I put the notebooks back in the drawer under the socks, and made myself presentable for the trip to town. I wore a pair of kakis with a blue cotton top and slip-on oxfords. I was pleased (after looking in the mirror) that no one would recognize me in this preppy attire. The opposite of the jeans and t-shirts with ragged sneakers I’d worn to roam the streets ten years ago.
I locked the front door behind me, stared at the silver hybrid—by far the ugliest car I’d ever seen—and decided my legs could use a good stretch so I walked the six short blocks to Main Street. I passed the Ha-Ta-Hoe (appropriately named by the owner who hated to hoe) hamburger shack. Across the street was the only other restaurant in town, The Silver Spur. They served family style meals with a simple menu of chicken fried steak, fried okra, fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, and fresh vegetables on the side seasoned with a half pound of bacon and drippings. Just as I passed by the grocerette, Jima jumped in front of me.
“Boy, I’m happy to see you!” I said.
“Really? You are?” She seemed surprised at my remark.
“I am, because I’m on my way to Maria’s.”
“Afraid of the blue-haired biddies?”
“You’ve got a mouth like Polly’s,” I said, showing my disapproval.
“I got that one from big Jim. Aunt Maria’s not gunna let anyone say anything nasty at you…that is not to your face.”
“That’s all that I can ask. Let them say what they want. We’re tough. Right?”
“Damn straight,” she said.
I didn’t enjoy hearing that sort of language coming out of her mouth, but then I remembered Jim and I cussing for the sake of cussing that started when we first met on my eighth birthday. The difference being, we would have never cussed in front of an adult. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but it was honest.
“Albee worked over yonder at the Post Office. Aunt Picky says your Pop was a good man and that he helped everyone around this town with whatever they needed. She said he had an angel on his shoulder because he never did a bad deed only good ones. Daddy says he was the plumber, a mechanic, and the mayor all at the same time. He said Sunny would have been dead and buried a long time ago if it hadn’t been for your Pop contracting the electric co-op the way he did.”
“How do you know so much?” I asked.
“I listen,” she said. “I know more than most people think I do probably more than I should. People around here talk a lot especially about other people, and I listen a lot. What else is there to do around here? It’s not exactly a cultural Mecca you know. Come on we’re here.” She pulled me through the front door of Maria’s Style Emporium. The spring-loaded door slammed behind us as if to announce our presence. Maria was at her chair combing out the blue tinted hair of an elderly customer who looked like Mrs. Garner—one of Polly’s friends. When Maria saw me, her eyes lit up with recognition. She was beautiful like her sister and didn’t hesitate even a second as she put her comb in the pocket of her floral smock, and skipped over to where I was standing.
She looked at Jima. “Vicky Lynn and James are in the house go check on them for me. There’s soda pop in the fridge you can each have a bottle.”
Jima looked at me for approval. I am positive that if I would have given her a desperate look she would have stayed, but I thought it was best if she didn’t hang around to hear the stories I wanted told. I smiled and nodded my approval.
“Holler if you need me,” she said, ran past the styling chairs, and Maria.
“Stop!” Maria demanded. Jima stopped. “Walk.”
“Yes ma’am,” Jima responded and walked quickly through the door that led to the house.
“Look at you standing right here in my shop as pretty as you please.” Maria grabbed my shoulders and gave me a fierce hug.
“Is that Mayor Green’s daughter? I thought she was dead,” an older woman with her curled head under the dryer asked.
“She is dead, stupid old woman. Dead and gone to hell,” the old woman in Maria’s chair said. That was Mrs. Betty Garner all right. I would know that sharp tongue anywhere. The lady under the dryer was Mrs. Ethyl Summers.
“She should’ve stayed gone,” Betty Garner said, as she got out of the chair and gathered her belongings. “My only hope is that you join your mother soon, and burn for what you’ve put your family through. Bad seed the whole lot of them.” She pulled some money from her purse and handed it to Maria, and then helped Mrs. Summers out from under the dryer hood.
“What did you say her name is?” Mrs. Summers asked.
“Deaf as doorknobs, both of them. Ethyl’s done lost her last marble,” Maria said quietly, and helped Mrs. Garner get Mrs. Summers to her feet.
“I can give her a quick comb out,” Maria said.
“No.” Mrs. Garner snapped. “We are settled up here. I’ll do the rest at home and bring your rollers back next week. If you need them before that well, you can come by the house. As long as you’re trading with the likes of that then you won’t be trading with me.” They moved at a snail's pace, Mrs. Summers behind a walker and Mrs. Garner with a cane, out the door. Maria hugged me again, this time with sobs.
“It’s just so good to see you,” she said through her tears. “When Jim said you were back I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t. Come on over here and sit next to me let me soak you in a little.” She led me to the chair where Mrs. Garner had been sitting, dusted the hair from the seat and sat beside me. Maria continued to cry and wipe her eyes. When I thought she was all cried out she’d start up again. The awkward moment built with every nose blow.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to run off your customers. The town’s not exactly rolling out the welcome mat for me. I didn’t expect it to be easy,” I said.
“Nothing worth it ever is,” she said and blew her nose again. She took in a breath that made her sit at least a foot taller in the chair. “Now don’t you worry yourself one little bit with those old biddies. They’ll be back as soon as their hair gets dirty. Where else are they going to go? And don’t you worry about Sunny and you fitting in or anything like that. It’s just the old folks who carry the past in their handbags you’ll see soon enough that everyone else, all your old friends, they’re fine and can’t wait to welcome you.” Maria was just a kid when I left, and now she was a full-fledged woman. Time had gone on without me.
“You’re married?” I asked.
“Yes I am, and with two precious babies.”
“Who did you marry?”
“Billy Price, four years ago next month. Vicky Lynn was born nine months and fifteen minutes later. Eleven months after that, William James Price Junior came along. My hands have been busy since. When we went through the drought in o-four, the whole town durn near died off. It was a blessing for me and Billy because Molly Winston, you remember her don’t you?”
Molly Winston moved to Sunny in the summer of nineteen ninety-nine, I was thirteen years old. Pop brought me to the salon, and I sat in the same chair Mrs. Summers had just left. It was my birthday.
“Give her the works,” Pop told Molly.
Molly gave me a haircut, manicure and pedicure. I flipped through a Teen People magazine—a publication Albee frowned upon— that she had on the counter as Molly and Pop talked about subjects I shouldn’t have heard. You see Molly was a Catholic (there were no Catholics in Sunny), and people had refused to do business with her until she saw the error of her ways and converted. In the case of Catholics and Jews the town would agree, it didn’t matter which you chose, The Church of Christ or the Baptist, as long as you choose one. Molly cried as she talked about going bankrupt. She had spent all of her money on renovating the building so that she could do hair in the front and live in the back. She was sure to have more than enough customers since she was the only hairdresser in town. Nothing went as planned. She’d only had one customer in the previous six months, and the bank was threatening foreclosure. Pop told her he’d poke around and see if anyone wanted to buy the business. She moved out a month later, and the store was still vacant when I left.
“Of course you remember. She left in ninety-nine. I’m sure you know all that, but no one knew how nice the shop and apartment was. Billy’s daddy is the bank president, and he said he’d give us a loan—if I was willing to get my license. I went to school in Sweetwater, took me about a year, passed the test in Austin, and here I am. I took over the shop, and Billy rented a hauler and pumped the water from his daddy’s well to save on bills. I started making money. We made it through by the skin of our teeth, but we made it all the same. The shop all but pays for itself…and the attached house, it’s got two bedrooms. With Billy still working the land we’ll make out fine. Might even be able to sock a few bucks away at some point.”
“You’re happy and that’s good,” I said.
“What brought you back?” Maria asked.
“I’m farming Pop’s land.”
“I heard about that this morning. I haven’t been out there, but I’ve heard it’s in pretty bad shape. Your neighbor Burton Evens put up a big wooden fence to keep the junk from falling onto his land. It would have cost the old sanctimonious bastard less had he just paid someone to clean it up.”
“He was Pop’s friend,” I said as memories flooded my head. “Pop plowed his field for him when he had back surgery. I don’t understand why he or anyone else in this town for that matter let this happen.”
“I guess they weren’t doing it to him so much as they were punishing you. Everyone knew you inherited it all. I think in their simple minds they wanted you to suffer and that was the best way to make it happen. Now that they know you’re cleaning it up they won’t dare lift a finger to help out. Hell no they’ll sit back and laugh at you having to do all that work all the while saying you deserve what you got. Gossip flows at a fast pace through these streets,” she said. “Nothing ever changes in a small town, but let’s not dwell on the negative. I want to know everything that’s happened to you in the last ten years. You shocked us all when you left without a word. I suppose most people thought you’d died I mean after six, or seven years passed without a peep out of you.”
Maria was fishing for fresh fodder, but I didn’t take the bait. “What happened to Vicky?” I asked. “How did she die?”
“Don’t you just love that Jima she’s a pistol all right has her daddy’s eyes and her momma’s smile. She’s also been cursed with Picky’s temperament. She says what she wants when she wants. Oh lord sweet Vicky—I guess I should start at the beginning.”
“That’s as good a place as any,” I encouraged.
“Promise me you won’t get too upset or take on the blame,” she said.
“I’ll do my best.”
“When you left, it hurt Vicky most of all because she was the last one to see you. She cried and cried, day and night. She felt so guilty because she didn’t stop you. She went to Abilene after that trucker brought your car back. She was convinced you had been kidnapped she said you’d never leave that car willingly.” Maria lowered her head. “She went to some seedy places and ended up getting herself raped. Vicky had to stay in the hospital for a couple days and when she came home, well she was just a mess.” She cocked her head and looked at me. “Are you ok sweetie?”
I nodded. I didn’t want her stop.
“About that same time Jim’s daddy was eat up by the combine while Jim was in Sweetwater filling out an application at the community college. He went out to the land before going home and found chunks of his daddy lying in the middle of the field. Jim took charge. He planned the funeral, took over the bills and started running the farm. He forgot all about college from that point on.”
“Vicky found out she was pregnant a month later and told Jim. Being the man he is Jim told Vicky they would get married, and he would raise the baby as his own. To cement the story he went forward and confessed to the sin of fornication the very next Sunday morning. He stood up before the whole church and proclaimed himself the father of Vicky’s baby and asked for forgiveness,” she said
proudly nodding her head.
I was in a shocked daze as Maria talked. Jim’s father ate up by a combine—I couldn’t imagine what he’d been through. Jim and Vicky helped each other get over one of the hardest times in their lives. I had to bring some goodness out of this horror story and that would be it. They had each other.
“A few months later Jima was born, and for a while they were a happy little family. They moved into the little guest house behind the sisters. Anyway they seemed happy, but I was wrong we were all wrong. Jim loves you always did always will, and Vicky knew it. He never said a word to her about you, but it didn’t matter because Vicky knew. He was always running around here and there looking for you. He never stopped looking for you. One day when Jima was only four months old she took her to Pilly and asked if she’d watch her for a spell, said she needed to go shopping. Vicky didn’t go shopping. She went to the back of the garage with Jim’s twenty-two and shot herself in the head.”
My gasp startled Maria and she held on tight to my shaking hand.
“I know it’s shocking take a deep breath and remember it is not your fault.”
“How can you say that?” I asked, my heart racing. She shot herself because Jim loved me and not her. Disconnect, I told myself, disconnect. “If I had stayed, she would have never gone looking for me and none of this would have happened.”
“You could have stayed and she would have died anyway. I believe when it’s your time to go it’s your time to go. Nothing can change when your life is meant to end.”
“I don’t share your belief,” I said. “I refuse to believe blowing your brains out could ever be what’s meant to happen. What happened after that?”
“Jim moved back in with the sisters, and they all raised Jima together. I help when I’m able, but as I said I got my hands full with my own. That little girl is lucky to have so many people loving her. Jim, the sisters and I are the only ones who know the real truth, and now you. Our aim is to keep it secret. Jima need never know.”
Patient: Crew (The Crew Book 1) Page 7